


The Lady and the Knight

by LadyNorbert



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Fluff, POV Male Character, Slow Build, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12774648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/pseuds/LadyNorbert
Summary: "Lady Cassandra," he said. In the course of a year, Cullen goes from thinking Cassandra isn't especially pretty to being convinced that she might be incredibly beautiful. Cullen/Cassandra, with background Josephine/Male Inquisitor.





	The Lady and the Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/gifts).



* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

She was tall and fiery, and though Cullen had often imagined (while growing up with a pair of very romantically inclined sisters) how a princess might look, none of his mental pictures matched the woman who stood before him. This was Cassandra Pentaghast, the Seeker of Truth, the Right Hand of the Divine, the dragonslayer. A princess of Nevarra, technically speaking; he’d heard much. It hardly did reality justice. She wasn’t what someone might traditionally term a beautiful woman, as a princess might be expected to be. It wasn’t that she was hard on the eyes - far from it - but her appeal was of an unusual battle-scarred sort.

Of course, he realized much too late, he shouldn’t really be thinking of her in such terms anyway.

“Knight-Captain,” she replied. “Or is it Knight-Commander now?”

“Provisionally only, I’m afraid. Given the circumstances, you can understand why.”

“Of course. You received my letter?”

“I did. Your offer is... interesting.”

“We need someone who can help us bring the renegade mages and Templars to heel,” she said. Her eyes were bright and almost piercing, her expression faintly hopeful. “Your track record here in Kirkwall recommends you to the post; Divine Justinia is grateful for what you’ve been able to do.”

“It’s hardly enough. Maker knows I’m at least as much at fault for everything that’s happened as any other Templar.” He shook his head. “More than most, really. I should have tried harder to stop Meredith.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. It is - what is the expression? Water under the bridge,” she replied. “You’ve done much to try to set things right, which is what matters most now. Have you considered the invitation?”

“I have. And I think... I think I’m ready to accept it,” he replied. “I can do more good with the Inquisition than I can here.”

“Excellent.” She nodded approvingly. “I have an interview, of sorts, to conduct here in Kirkwall before we go. My men are apprehending the individual in question now. If you can be ready to leave in four days, that should be sufficient. The Divine is already at the Conclave,” she added. “I should have been there long since, but it’s very important that I speak with this person.”

Cullen decided he didn’t want to know.

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

They were on the docks of Kirkwall, preparing to board a ship. Much to Cullen’s surprise, Cassandra wasn’t alone; in her company was a very familiar and displeased-looking dwarf. “Messere Tethras? What... are you the person she was interviewing, then?”

“Interviewing?” Varric snorted. “Is that what she called it? Try kidnapping and interrogating. And then I was let go, so why am I _here_?”

“Because I think you need to give testimony to Divine Justinia personally,” she replied shortly.

“Okay, so why are _you_ here, Curly?”

Cullen blinked at the nickname. “I - that is -”

“Cullen will be assisting us with the effort to subdue the rebel mages and Templars,” Cassandra cut in.

“Oh, so he gets to go of his own free will, but I get dragged?”

“I could put you in irons,” she offered, her tone faintly lighter, “if you think it will make a better story.”

“It probably would, but I think I’ll pass. Where’s the Nightingale?”

“The whom?” Cullen asked.

“Sister Leliana. The Left Hand of the Divine,” Cassandra replied. “She should be along any moment, and then we can depart.”

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used such a tone of voice. Soft, sympathetic - yet almost fearful. The death of the Divine was always a solemn occasion in the Chantry, of course, but this... this was like nothing the world had ever dreamed even in its darkest nightmares.

The entire Conclave, gone. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, decimated. The sky, sundered and spitting demons. Pain and terror beyond anything anyone had ever known permeated the village of Haven, if not the entire world. And one person lay at the center of things, one individual who had stumbled out of the Fade and collapsed.

Cassandra raised her glossy black head and blinked at him in despair. “I still cannot believe,” she said, her voice choked, “that we lost so much.”

“I’m truly sorry.”

“The Inquisition must be... more than we intended,” she murmured throatily. “Our focus must change, in light of all of this. With the Chantry leadership dead, it will fall to us to find a way to seal the sky, and to keep the peace. This was not what you agreed to do, Cullen. We never intended you to lead an army. But now... we must assemble an army of the faithful, and you are the only one we have to lead them.”

She was on her knees at a makeshift altar, and after a brief hesitation, he crouched down beside her. “You’ve been through too much. You shouldn’t have to worry about this now.”

“It is precisely now when we must worry about such things. There will be time later for sorrow. I need to know - can you do this?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I will try.”

"That is all I can ask." She sighed. "When the prisoner wakes, I will try to learn what happened. He must be able to tell us  _something_ about it all."

"I hope so, for all our sakes." Though he had to admit, he noted with some surprise, that he particularly hoped so for her sake. Cassandra suffering was difficult to watch; it made something twist painfully inside him, something that he felt sure had nothing to do with his own regret.

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

She and the prisoner came stumbling along the path, joining the fray as he and his men drove off a pack of demons. Introductions were briefly exchanged. Snow and bits of Fade swirled about them.

He could only hear half of what she was saying. Honestly, the words weren’t entirely important. What _was_ important was that she was alive. He kept that thought in his head as he helped one of his wounded soldiers limp away from the fighting to safety.

They reconvened in Haven, after the prisoner - the Herald of Andraste, he was now called - sealed the first of the great rifts and fell into unconsciousness. Cassandra was exhausted, and embittered; Chancellor Roderick would drive them all insane before this was over.

Cullen was younger than Cassandra or Leliana, though by how much he wasn’t entirely sure. He and Josephine were about the same age. All pleasant women, in largest part; all very devoted to the cause. But it was Cassandra he knew best, both by reputation and from their voyage across the Waking Sea, and it was Cassandra he felt most compelled to trust. The four of them concluded their meeting; Josephine returned to her office, Leliana to her tent, and Cassandra walked with him to the practice fields.

“The Herald will hopefully wake before too long,” she said. “Adan is with him, and Solas. He will have a lot of work ahead of him when he wakes, if he’s willing.”

“You’ll give him an option?”

“I cannot force him to help us save the world.” She half-smiled. “All I can do is hope that he will put aside our former enmity and agree to work toward the common goal. He is our only prayer, it seems.”

“Chancellor Roderick would disagree.”

At that, she actually laughed. “All the more reason to believe in the Herald.”

Odd, he realized; she was prettier than he had first thought. It was a strange notion to have suddenly drift through his mind

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

“You don’t need to call me that, you know.”

“I know.”

Five months had passed. It hardly seemed real, hardly seemed possible that they had been in Haven so long. So much had happened. The Herald and a Tevinter mage had been flung through time; the Tevinter had joined their cause (and, much to Cullen’s shock, was one of the most personable individuals he’d ever met). The Herald seemed to be pursuing a delicate flirtation with Josephine, but that was neither here nor there, he thought. Inquisition soldiers had been kidnapped in Ferelden, and rescued. A Grey Warden had joined them, and the Imperial Enchanter. The fighting in the Hinterlands had been quelled. Finally, with the aid of the mages, the Breach had been sealed.

Less than six hours later, they’d all had to flee for their lives.

Haven was gone; the Herald had brought down the mountain to bury it, and hopefully buried their enemy along with it. Now they sheltered in a camp deep in the Frostbacks, waiting and watching and praying that he would find them. Too many of their number already lay dead, the landslide serving as their barrow. They would need to determine who lay entombed in the snow, send word to their families. 

He had failed them, he thought. He turned to look at Cassandra, the bloom in her scarred cheeks faded with the frost. He had, perhaps, failed her too.

“You look cold,” he said, unable to voice his real thoughts.

“It’s nothing. I can bear it.” She shivered nonetheless. He didn’t comment, but shifted sideways a bit until their upper arms touched; perhaps she could siphon a bit of his warmth for herself.

How long they stood like that, he didn’t know. But suddenly, in the most distant reaches of the torchlight, a figure emerged from the blizzard conditions and collapsed in the snow. “There he is!”

“Thank the Maker!” cried Cassandra, as they darted forward to collect the frozen figure.

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

“Don’t say it,” she replied shortly.

They were in Skyhold, now, an ancient elven fortress which Solas had enabled them to find. Hawke was there; it seemed that Varric had been able to contact her all along, and had finally broken down and summoned her to help them take on the ancient magister called Corypheus. She had prior experience with the matter, apparently.

Cullen wasn’t too sure about any of that, but what he did know for sure was that Cassandra was angry. At first, he thought she was angry at Varric, but he quickly realized his error; it was _herself_ at whom she was angriest. He was both surprised and not surprised, because he had long since learned that this was simply how Cassandra was. She asked nothing of anyone else that she was not willing to give herself, but she asked more of herself than she would ever ask of anyone else.

“I should have explained things to him. I should have made him see what was at stake, why Hawke was so necessary for what Most Holy intended,” she said. “Instead I... did not. I meant to do the right thing and I could not have done it more wrongly. And now she is dead.”

“We can’t change the past,” he said. “Believe me, I have quite a bit that I would be altering if we could. We’ve got an Inquisitor, now. And we’ve got Hawke after all. She’s a good woman - she’ll do what she can to help.”

“You are being unusually optimistic,” she said.

“I’ve been practicing.”

She actually smiled at that. “Keep it up. It suits you.”

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

It came out almost as a growl. They were fighting, unusually. The lyrium withdrawal was taking its toll, and he was begging her to name a replacement for him. He was a danger to the Inquisition while he was like this. She was refusing.

“You’ve asked for my opinion and I’ve given it. Why would you expect it to change?”

“I expect you to keep your word! It’s relentless!”

Seeing the Inquisitor on the threshold, he muttered an apology and departed. But even as he left, even as he later spoke to the Inquisitor, one thing remained firm in his mind.

_She believes in me._

Cassandra believed in him. So did the Inquisitor.

Maybe he could believe in himself too.

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

They were at the Winter Palace, and had suffered through a ball while the Inquisitor tracked down the would-be imperial assassin. Cullen pulled at the collar of his dress uniform, relieved that the courtiers who had kept him trapped most of the evening had finally drifted off to other matters.

“I have never been more grateful in my life for something to be over,” she said flatly.

“I thought you enjoyed romantic things like balls.”

“I enjoy romantic things. I do _not_ enjoy balls. They are frivolous evenings filled with frivolous people; I saw enough of both in Nevarra.”

“I’m told that the Empress is sending her arcane advisor to join the Inquisition,” he said. “She just had a brief meeting with the Herald. I doubt Vivienne is going to appreciate that.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “Where is the Herald?”

“On the balcony.” Cullen glanced in that direction, then did a double take. “Oh. Well.”

“What?” She peered around him and gasped slightly. The Inquisitor and a positively ecstatic-looking Josephine were making their way shyly through the steps of a waltz. “Oh, my. She’s so _happy_.” Cassandra’s tone was nearly gushing; it was endearing.

“So that’s how that works,” he said with a chuckle. “As I remarked to someone else earlier, Templars don’t exactly attend balls. I’m quite out of my element. Though I suppose a dance could be attempted, provided one had the right partner.”

“My understanding is that you could partner almost anyone in the vicinity tonight,” she said teasingly. He glanced at her, and wondered idly how he never noticed the way her eyes sparkled.

“I doubt we’ll get a chance like this again,” he teased back, turning to offer a half-bow. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

If she was surprised at the request, it was nothing to how astonished he was that she didn’t punch him. Instead she eyed him in some confusion. “You’re serious?” After a pause, she gave a curt nod, and slipped her gloved hand into his. “Well,” she said, letting him turn her and allowing a more relaxed smile to curl her lips, “I suppose this isn’t _terrible_.”

She was, in fact, everything a princess ought to be. He had just imagined it wrong all those years ago.

* * *

“Lady Cassandra,” he said.

“Commander.”

Corypheus was dead, and they were celebrating the downfall of evil. The sky overhead was dark and scarred, but sealed and secure. He and Josephine and Leliana had watched with pride and relief as the Inquisitor and his closest supporters (minus one) had paraded back into the fortress grounds. Josephine had thrown herself into the Inquisitor’s arms, much to the delight of onlookers, while he and Leliana greeted the rest.

Something had stopped him from behaving similarly. But only just.

The world had changed, and the Inquisition would need a fresh purpose. They had done what they set out to do. But that could wait for a few days while they rested, and recovered, and rejoiced.

As the party started to wind down, the Inquisitor and Josephine slipped away for a private conversation. Cassandra excused herself and walked out onto the parapets to watch the stars fade. Cullen followed, ignoring pointed looks from some of the Inquisition members who fancied themselves well informed.

“We’ve come a long way in the past year,” he noted, gazing down at the courtyard below them. “So much has changed. Not everything, but a lot.”

“What will you do now?” she wanted to know. “You could stay, but you have choices - there are other things you could do.”

“I’ve thought about it,” he replied. “But I think this is where I can still do the most good. I still want to make some changes to my own life, and I think the Inquisition will let me do that.”

“You’ve thrown off the shackles of your lyrium addiction,” she said, and he was pleased to hear the note of pride in her voice. “You’ve reconnected with your family... made friends... you’re a new person.”

“You helped,” he said. “I wouldn’t be standing here if it hadn’t been for you. Andraste preserve me, without you I could have ended up as a Red Templar or worse. If I’m a new person, it’s because you first believed I could be.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I probably don’t give you enough.”

She made a tiny disgusted noise, which didn’t seem to be all that disgusted. “Then you’re staying?”

“I am, but what about you? Are you?”

“I was thinking about it.” She glanced at him. “I seem to like being where you are, for some reason. Perhaps, if you go about this the right way... I may find that I want to be where you are more often.”

“And what is ‘the right way,’ Lady Cassandra?” His lips twitched as he fought a smile. “Classical romance? Candles and poetry?”

“Is it wrong for me to want those things?” she challenged.

“No, not at all.”

“Well. Good. Because that _is_ what I want.”

“Duly noted.”

The sun was just peeking over the mountains, and the light struck her face. She was, he thought, rather uncommonly beautiful.


End file.
